


A Drop of Blood

by LuxRoyalty (slytherinsdaughter)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Description of blood, Gen, Graphic Description of Injury, Hurt/Comfort, I tried my hardest to tag this, Major Character Injury, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinsdaughter/pseuds/LuxRoyalty
Summary: Assassination attempts - something for royalty to look forward to.And this one was a bad one.For awhile there, Noctis thought the time with the Marilith was better.





	A Drop of Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I made a sideblog for my fics - [here](https://luxroyalty.tumblr.com) Come say hi! (yeah, I couldn't get the same url) I put up a little ficlet there already, if you want to go see!
> 
> This fic is a harsh one. I did some research and saw more blood than I wanted too. Check the tags. (and if there's anything I forgot to tag, tell me please! I'll put it up there.)

Noctis tried not to rock back on his heels as he stood on stage.

He stood behind his father and to the right, and looked towards the public as his father made the speech. It was said to be a long one too, and he was already getting bored even though he couldn’t show it. The speeches were the worst part of being royal, he swore.

Unusually, the speech wasn’t being made on the Citadel steps - and that was the only good part of this.

They were inside one of the old halls, and it was usually a theatre, and this showed. Noctis wanted to look around at it, at the paintings on the walls and at the back, but he had to hold still. The stage underneath him was made out of light coloured wood, and it had echoed a little when he walked on it.

His dad’s cane had rang around the room with every step Regis made. Very Kingly.

The public’s eyes were trained on the stage, people sitting in the audience looking up at them. He could see the news cameras move at they recorded everything. He knew that some were trained on him, watching his every move as well. Something so little as a yawn was being broadcasted live on air.

Then Noctis heard a slight sound, he felt the floor vibrate a little, and he had to stop himself from frowning. What was that? He allowed himself to glance at Gladio, opposite him, standing on Clarus’ left. He wasn’t looking thought.

It was probably nothing.

But then it increased, and Noctis saw Clarus frown. No, it wasn’t nothing - but what was it?

The sound of an explosion shrieked in his ears, and Noctis flinched, before stumbling and falling. The ground was moving underneath him, and he slid forward, off the edge of the now tilted stage. There weren't any handholds to grab, so there was no stopping him falling.

It was lucky that he managed to avoid the seats by the stage and he landed just in front of them - _hard._ His whole body jolted as he hit the floor with a thump. A piece of the stage landed on his arm, and he lay there, stunned. His arm was practically screaming at him. Astrals, that hurt.

He heard the screaming of people, the shouting of the Crownsguard but his sight was taken up by one thing - the man sitting in front of him.

He was smirking, and hadn’t moved, flinched, done anything when the bomb went off. He was just looking down at Noctis with a sick look in his eyes. Noctis tilted his head up to peer at him with suspicious eyes. The man’s mouth moved and he could read his lips.

"For Niflheim.”

Noctis froze for a beat. He went to get up, to go backwards, to retreat, but by that point the man had already dived for him.

“For Niflheim!” He screeched. Noctis saw the flash of a blade shining in the light.

How did that man manage to get in here with a weapon? There always were so many checks when his dad was in places - and out of the corner of his eye he could see that cameras were still trained on him. His death was going to be _live on TV_. He pulled his arm out of the debris, hissing at the pain, but it was too late.

Within seconds the man had reached him.

He lunged at Noctis, and Noctis jerked his head back. It didn’t work - at least, not very well. He felt the sharp edge of the weapon tear into the soft flesh of his neck, from the side almost to the front. Noctis gasped.

Someone immediately tackled the Nif man - but it was way too late.

He tried to cover the wound like he’d been taught to, but he saw the blood spurt out wildly, _spraying_ him and the ground in front of him. Noctis’ hand shook as he went to apply more pressure. He could see the public, the people staring at him in utter horror. The cameras were probably still recording. Someone was yelling his name.

Noctis bowed forwards, bringing his other hand to his neck. Warm blood was running down his arm, pooling on his lap. The only thing he could hear was the sound of own gasps as his breathing stuttered.

He was _going to die and his dad could probably see it._ Six, he hoped his dad wasn’t watching - that Clarus had turned him away.

Noctis screwed his eyes shut. There was so much blood, on him, near him. It was so warm but he felt so cold.

“Your Highness!” Someone called, and Noctis opened his eyes to see a Crownsguard paramedic kneeling next to him. She was kneeling in his blood and her eyes were wide but her hands were steady.

He felt her hands on his shoulders as she pushed him down, and he lay on the floor, hands still around his neck. His mouth was open, gasping. There seemed to be blood everywhere - and he thought it was all his. How much had he lost? Noctis felt her hands peel his off and he couldn’t do anything but let her.

Then her warm hands were doing something and he felt pain. There was blood on his neck, his face. He was practically wearing gloves made out of his own blood, and now she was too. Blood was smudged on his face. He watched her expression as she moved to kneel on him, on his chest.

More paramedics appeared and she wasn’t alone, all of them looking at his neck. He was shaking - when did that start? They were all talking to each other, and he didn’t understand them.

He noticed when they grabbed at him, picking him up and setting him back down on a stretcher they had got from somewhere. It seemed like it was the only thing not stained red, and then it was as he bled out on it. The woman was still kneeling on him and he didn’t know _why._ Noctis wanted to throw up.

Then he was moving, they were moving, and Noctis watched the faces leaning over him as he was rolled past.

“It’ll be alright, your Highness,” said a paramedic, smiling at him.

Noctis blinked sluggishly.

He wondered how his dad was doing. He hoped Regis was fine, wherever he was. Noctis didn’t want his dad to see him like this - he never wanted to see his father’s face get filled with so much pain. Was this worse or better than the daemon attack when he was little? He honestly didn't know.

The sounds of the theatre rung loud in his skull. There was was a roar of voices, all talking over each other. His head hurt, and he just wanted them to shut up.

He was jolted when the smooth wooden floor ran out. The wheels of the stretcher clicked over each pavement slab and every noise sounded like it lasted a lifetime. The blood was all sticky - or maybe that was the sweat, and he felt filthy. His sight was blurred, and all he could see were the people looking at his neck. They were talking about him or to him, he didn’t know, but their mouths were opening and closing with only a dribble of sound. Noctis wasn’t listening to them.

The paramedics tried to jar him as little as possible as they loaded him into the ambulance. Still, this couldn’t fix everything and Noctis trembled.

He heard the doors slam, and the sirens start up, sound muffled where he was lying. One paramedic approached him with something in his hand - clamps? - And the man reached towards his neck with them. There was a pause, and Noctis flinched as something inside his neck _moved._

There was a click - or maybe he was imagining it? - And the other paramedic let go. Noctis waited for the gush of blood, but nothing happened.

“Don’t move, Prince,” she said. Her arms to her chest were covered in blood. He blinked slowly. “How do you feel?” She asked him.

“Cold.” He murmured.

“We’ll fix that for you.”

A foil blanket was draped around him, but it didn’t help much.

“You might feel dizzy, or sweaty, or confused. You’ve lost a lot of blood - this is normal. We’re taking you to hospital, and they’ll fix you right up.” The male paramedic was trying to be reassuring.

“Is dad - okay?” He had to ask them.

She nodded. “He’s fine. You’re the injured one, your Highness.”

Noctis let himself relax completely onto the stretcher. When he said he’ll do _anything_ to get out of the speech he was being sarcastic. If he - for some reason - ever had to talk to the Six he would have to remember that. Sarcasm was a bad idea, he got it.

His hand went up to touch his neck and a paramedic immediately caught it. “Don’t - please don’t do that.”

He wondered whether he should say sorry, but before he could the ambulance slowed down to a stop. The paramedics stood, one of them opening the doors. He couldn’t see what they were doing then, but he felt it when the stretcher started moving. The van ceiling turned to hospital ceiling, and he didn’t move when he was lifted up and put on a bed.

“Your Highness,” said a harassed looking doctor. She was wearing oversized glasses that shone in the harsh lights of the hospital, “please stay still - we’ll treat you now.”

Noctis blinked, too tired to talk and not able to nod his head. She didn’t seem like she wanted an answer thought, as he was rushed into another white room. They gently placed him on _another_ bed, and Noctis could see a freaked out expression in one of the nurse’s eyes - although it disappeared quickly after that.

“We’re just going to make sure you can’t feel it,” the nurse told him as she picked up his good arm. He felt the needle go in and winced. “It’s just some of the good stuff.” He said.

The doctor shook her head at him. “Disinfectant.” She commanded. She then ever so gently touched his neck. “Can you feel this?”

“Yes.” Noctis croaked out. She gestured something, then her hands moved where he couldn’t see.

“Can you feel this?”

She was touching him? “No.”

“Good,” she breathed, “I don’t want to knock you out - it’s not safe, but you won’t be able to move. Just relax, your Highness.”

He let his eyes close then. What else could he do?

* * *

 

They set him up in a large private room. He’d been cleaned, dressed in less bloody clothes. Heavy bandages were wrapped around his neck, and he remembered the nurse’s words.

“More than three hundred and fifty stitches,” she had said.

He didn’t honestly know how bad that was, but he did know that the Nif had managed to cut his artery. His _artery._

That was why the blood had spurted rather than do anything else.

He had only been in there for a minute or so before his dad crashed in.

“Noctis,” he called, limping, “my son are - are you alright?”

He turned to look at the King. He was ragged and dusty, and Clarus - following in behind him, wasn’t much better. “I’m fine. Are _you_ fine?”

Regis let out a low, unhappy laugh. “I saw him cut your throat. You are not fine. I, on the other hand, am suffering only bruises and abrasions. _You_ are in hospital.”

He had a point. “What about Gladio?”

Clarus joined in then. “Outside the room. He’s shaken, but not hurt. Your Highness, you worried us all.”

“You terrified me.” Regis walked close enough that he could sit in the chair at his bedside. He went to hold Noctis’ hand, and Noctis gladly let him. “I haven’t been so scared in years.” He brushed Noctis’ cheek with his palm.

Noctis could see that his eyes were wet. “I’m fine, dad. Or I’m going to be.” He reassured him.

“You are.” Regis said. He didn’t let go of Noctis’ hand, but he turned to Clarus. “Allow Gladiolus and Ignis in here, please. They need to see him too.”

Clarus nodded, moving to stick his head out the door. Noctis saw him wave them in.

To most people Ignis would look fine. To Noctis, he looked absolutely frazzled. He could see the sheer amount of relief in his eyes when he greeted him.

“Highness,” Ignis breathed out.

“Prince Noctis!” Exclaimed Gladio. Noctis looked at him and saw how dusty and dirty the other man was. They both seemed like they have had a day almost as bad as he had.

“Hey guys.” Noctis tiredly greeted them. He was just too tired for any type of enthusiasm today, even if he was happy to see them.

Ignis’ eyes seemed like they were burning a hole into the bandage. “If I may ask - how bad was your injury?”

Noctis blinked. “It had -” what was a good way to describe it? “Over three hundred stitches?”

Everyone hissed at that, even the King.

Gladio shook his head hard. “My scar didn’t have half of that.” he took a step closer, and Noctis saw the start of guilt on his face.

“What happened to the guy that tackled him?” Noctis had to ask, looking at his dad.

Ignis answered, “we have collected his name, and although it is not official, he is likely to get a medal. The Niflheim infiltrator has been captured.”

“He should get a medal.” Noctis touched his neck gently. “Did the cameras - ?”

Regis squeezed his hand. “They have gotten a recording of the incident. They cut it off a small amount of time after you - were injured, but before that it was all live. The people have been giving us well wishes for your health.”

“Prompto was watching.” Noctis said. “Did you text him I’m okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Ignis answered him, “he made his worries well known. He is aware you are awake and talking, although he can’t visit you.”

Noctis almost nodded then thought better of it. “Okay.”

“He may visit you later,” the King decreed, and no one argued.

* * *

 

There was a TV in his room. He watched it when he was left alone - and he hadn’t been, really. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when the news came on and he was on the front of it.

“There has been an assassination attempt on the Crown Prince.” The announcer said. “Yesterday afternoon, as King Regis was making a speech in The Rogue Theatre, a small bomb exploded near the stage, making him and the Prince fall. They were both only slightly injured, but a Niflheim Agent took that chance to attack the Crown Prince.”

She faded out, and a black screen replaced her, but he could still hear her talking.

“This is a video our camera took of the event. Please be warned for blood and violence. This is an extremely graphic video, viewers be warned, and look away if needed.”

The screen changed, and he could see himself frozen, lying on the ground. He saw his arm trapped underneath a broken piece of stage and his actual arm throbbed in sympathy.

The camera caught the look in the Nif agent’s eyes every well, and Noctis saw himself when he tried to move away. He couldn’t see the knife in the video, but he certainly saw when someone else came barrelling past and dropped the Nif to the floor.

He saw himself buckle, almost falling forward, and the blood start to spurt. He saw his own hand try to stop the flow, but also the quickly appearing puddle.

It looked almost as bad as it felt.

The video cut off there, and returned to the presenter.

“The Crown has told us Prince Noctis is stable. No other information was given. This is a nasty thing to go through, and we are with the public in the fact that we all wish Prince Noctis well. Now, our expert doctor that we have brought on set today is going to tell us what he believes the injuries are. Jeff -”

Noctis pressed the remote, clicking the TV off.

The Nif had slit his throat, cutting it wide open. When the nurses changed his bandage he saw it, red and bruised. The doctors had told him it was going to leave a thick scar - but it didn’t give him permanent damage. He knew his own injuries. He didn't need to listen to more.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” He called.

“Noct!” Prompto came barrelling in. The first thing Noctis saw was his bright hair, then his worried eyes. “You’re alright! They told me, but it’s not the same as seeing you.”

“I’m fine,” Noctis rolled his eyes, “even the doctors say so - people don’t believe me.”

Prompto stopped just beside his bed, rocking back on his heels. His eyes flickered to the bandages on his throat. “Well I hope you’re completely better soon. Iggy texted me that I was allowed over - dude, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“Specs take you here?” He asked.

Prompto shook his head, “no, another guy. He also took me through all the people. I thought the Crownsguards were going to kick me out, and I think the Kingsglaives can sense fear.” He sat down on the nearby chair.

Noctis leaned over and poked his shoulder. “Well, they’re going to move me to the Citadel soon and you can still visit me there,” he smirked, “so you’re going to have to get over your fears soon.”

“Hey,” Prompto complained, “not everyone is used to super strong bodyguards. There are loads of people outside the hospital, too. And everyone seemed to look at me as I was allowed in. People are praying for you, you know? Quite literally praying. I saw them. The Crownsguard is being scary enough to keep them out, and let me tell you - They are _scary.”_

Noctis huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m not scared of them.”

There was a pause, and he looked at Prompto. He wondered if he should ask. “Did you… see?”

Prompto nodded, the smile on his face falling. “Yeah - you were on it, so I thought I should.” He rubbed the back of his neck before looking back at Noctis, “it looked - bad. Really bad. Dude, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m _fine,”_ he stressed, “I can’t train with Gladio for a while, that’s it.” He wished that Prompto hadn’t seen, if only because it would have freaked his friend out less. “Come on, let’s do something fun.”

Prompto’s face screwed up. “Fun?”

“King’s knight.”

“Okay, yeah, we can do that.”

* * *

 

The first time he stepped out of the hospital the news stations went crazy. It was hard enough to be allowed to _step_ \- they wanted him to have a wheelchair at first, in case he was dizzy. The lights of the cameras blinded him, but he just kept on walking forwards, Gladio’s hand on his elbow. Ignis was on his other side, frowning at the cameras and the shouted questions.

Of course, none of them were allowed anywhere near him, the Crownsguard blocking any that tried. Noctis was quiet when he stepped into the car - the Regalia - Gladio coming in behind him. He heard the door slam shut, and he watched as Ignis got in the other side. There was a driver already there, and he quickly made the car move to get out of there.

“That was a rush.” Gladio said, stretching out a little.

“Yes, well, the media do want conformation of Prince Noctis’ health. I am glad the ‘guard was there.”

“You’re telling me,” Noctis rubbed his face.

It was a quick journey, straight to the Citadel. They weren’t far away in the first place. The car was allowed to go straight into the garage, ignoring the crowds gathered outside.

The inside was like it always was - but everything seemed to be covered with flowers. There were vases full of them.

“Well wishes,” Ignis said, noticing Noct’s look, “people want you to be in the best of health.”

Noctis rubbed his throat.

* * *

 

Regis needed to have a press conference. People needed to know Noctis was alright, and a press conference was the best way to do that.

This did not mean that they wanted Noctis with them, thought.

“Your Majesty, if they see me, they will _know_ I’m fine.” Noctis argued.

“You have just been released from hospital, you are not fine.” Regis narrowed his eyes.

“Your Majesty,” everyone's eyes turned to look at the council member. “What his Highness says is true - the public is worried for him and seeing him would ease their fears. And at this point in time breaches in protocol, like a chair for him, wouldn't be seen badly.”

Regis sighed. He understood the wisdom of their words, but he dislike it. “Very well. Noctis, you may be at the conference, but you _will_ sit and Gladiolus and Ignis will be by you.”

Noctis nodded, pleased. “Of course, your Majesty.” He glanced at the door. “They want to take the bandage off - may I go?”

Regis waved at the door. “Be safe.” He said.

Noctis nodded at the rest of the people, walking out of the room. Ignis and Gladio were waiting just outside with some of the other ‘guards, but they immediately joined him when entered the room.

“Well?” Gladio asked.

“I can go. If I sit, and you're both with me.”

“It is likely an increase of the Crownsguard numbers is expected as well.” Ignis commended, before reminding him, “you've got an appointment in the infirmary, your Highness.”

“Yeah, I'm going.” Noctis sighed.

They walked through the halls together, people bowing when they saw him. It wasn't long until they arrived - the doctors were always somewhat near where the King usually was.

A nurse bowed to him and escorted them to one of the private rooms. His doctor was in there, and she stood when she saw him.

“Your Highness,” she greeted. “I am glad to see you.”

“Hi.” Noctis replied. “They said you wanted to look at the bandage?”

She nodded, “you may not need it, but the doctors in that hospital have likely gone… overboard, seeing that it was you.”

Noctis snorted, before he took the seat in front of her. She quickly put on gloves, before she moved forward and gently tugged at the end of the bandages, trying to loosen them.

“You may want to sit down,” she said to his friends.

Neither of them took her up on that offer, but she didn't seem to mind.

Quite quickly, his neck was bared to the world. He could see the wound in the mirror hanging on the wall. It curved around his throat, dark blue stitches holding it together. Gently, the doctor touched it.

“Good stitching.” She kept doing something, and Noctis honestly had no idea what it was, but soon after she withdrew. “Well, I was right. You don't need bandages, but you can keep them on if you wish.”

Noctis gently touched the wound, feeling the edges of it. “No,” he eventually said.

She nodded, taking the answer easily. “You will need to come back so we can check your stitches, but that is all. You're in good health, as far as this is concerned, Prince Noctis.”

There was nothing else to do, after that, other than prepare for the press conference. He could feel his friends' eyes on his neck as they walked to his room.

“What?” He had to ask.

“My apologies,” Ignis answered him, “seeing the wound is… different, from hearing about it.”

It stretched around his throat, bared to the world - probably until he died. Noctis tried not to touch it again.

Gladio said nothing, but his face was tight.

Noctis elbowed the both of them. “I’m fine.”

* * *

 

It started where it finished, with a speech.

This time he was sitting down. The wound on his neck throbbed ever so slightly, and he could see people taking pictures of it. So many pictures. It was going to be on the news for days, he knew.

Regis was still speaking when he tuned back in.

“Prince Noctis has received over three-hundred and fifty stitches,” the crowd hissed, people frowning. Okay, he didn’t know much about stitches, but was it really _that_ bad? “But, as you can see he is in good health, otherwise.” His dad waved a hand towards him and the clicking of the cameras increased.

Noctis smiled and nodded at them.

His hand twitched and he wanted to touch his neck, but he didn’t.

At least this time, the assassination attempt didn’t end in death, only scars. He and his dad were fine, were alive. But sometimes, he wondered if they would one day succeed.

He hoped he was wrong.


End file.
